


Rest

by longforgottenhymn



Series: endgame fics and fix-its [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Pepper Potts, but everything gets worse before it gets better (sorry), prosthetic peter parker, theres no major character deaths tho!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 17:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longforgottenhymn/pseuds/longforgottenhymn
Summary: MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERSMr Stark used to tell him he had a pure heart and that it would get the better of him one day. He’d shrug and say he didn’t think that sounded so bad. There were worse ways to go, after all. Perhaps he’d die saving someone else.You’re assuming I’d let you die, Tony would quip, half smiles and half serious. I wouldn’t, you know. Over my dead body.Peter always thought that was terribly dramatic of him. Perhaps it wasn’t.





	Rest

There’s a bright light in front of him. After almost a month adrift in the depths of space, the sudden appearance of fire is overwhelming. His eyes take their time to adjust to it.

    Perhaps this change of scenery, this escape from the dark place he’s been wallowing in is making him hallucinate; for a moment he thinks he sees something in the heart of the flame. A flicker of hope. Short, dark hair ruffled by an unknown wind, childishly wide eyes looking to him for guidance.

Tony rarely sleeps, because this is what he sees when he does. Peter Parker reaching out, pleading for a life that is slipping through his fingers and turning to dust.

    This time it’s different, though. This time, Peter doesn’t fade away - he stands resolute in the middle of the warm light, and there’s a different kind of fire in his eyes, like those times in the lab when he’d be dead set on getting some wildly crazy idea of his to work.

    The kid nods once, decisively, and Tony rubs his eyes to make sure he isn’t seeing things. Of course, when his hands fall away, Parker is gone. In his stead there’s a woman peering down at him curiously.

    Later on he’d ask her if there’d been someone else with her. The look she’d give him would speak louder than words.

    Of course not. Peter is dead, after all. Perhaps it was only his ghost. Perhaps…

    Perhaps the kid is happy somewhere else, somewhere golden and bright with hope.

****

* * *

 

He feels queasy when he comes to.

    It’s like he’s been suddenly thrashed unconscious only to wake up to a body that has already mended itself. It’s strange, it feels unnatural, like he should be in a worse state than he is.

    Speaking of strange… there’s a wizard standing above him.

    ‘Hi,’ Peter breathes, his lungs sucking in air like they’ve been starved of it for decades.

    ‘We need to go,’ the doctor says. He offers a hand and the kid takes it, pulling himself up on shaky legs. There’s something… off, about him, about the whole world, but it feels weirdly fine. Like everything was wrong, but now it’s righting itself again. Like something missing has now been returned.

    ‘What- why, where… What happened?’

    ‘We were gone for five years,’ Strange explains hurriedly, making a circular motion with his hand. Before them, a yellow glow appears. ‘The battle against Thanos still continues. He doesn’t have the stones right now - we have to keep it that way.’

    The wizard turns to Peter, and then to the people behind him who he’s just now noticing.

    ‘Be prepared. This is the fight of our lives.’

    The glow turns into sparks that turn into a portal, unveiling a dark battlefield beyond it. The spider-sense flares to life, warning of an unprecedented danger on the other side.

    He swallows nervously. Whatever happened, he has to figure it out later on. For now, there’s a war to be fought, and he’s found himself on the front lines.

****

* * *

 

As soon as the sorcerers make their entrance, Tony knows they’ve done it. They brought everyone back. He can’t stop himself from looking though, even as he blasts enemies and wrestles with monsters on the battlegrounds, just to make sure _everyone_ really were saved.

    And then the kid swings in like he always does, rambling, eager to share what’s happened since they last saw each other. His chest heaves as he breathes, FRIDAY picking up on an erratic but positively existing heartbeat. Alive.

    Tony doesn’t stop himself from hugging Peter close enough to break a rib.

    ‘This feels nice,’ the kid mutters into his shoulder and Stark feels laughter bubble up in his chest. After Thanos is gone - and he promises himself, he _will_ rid the universe of that purple menace, _whatever it takes_ \- they’ll have many more moments like this.

    Morgan is the love of his life, apple of his eye. Some times, during the years, he’s thought about what it would be like for her to have an older brother. In another time, he’d dream, she’d get piggyback rides around the house, someone to help her with homework and building pillow forts. An excited boy with as much energy as her to spend. But then he’d push it away, push that guilt and sorrow down and lock it away before it could consume him.

    Now, he doesn’t have to.

****

* * *

 

‘Mr Stark.’

    Everything goes by so fast, racing through the clashing of armies, clutching this new gauntlet close to his chest. And then Peter’s falling, holding onto the stones because his life and everyone else’s depends on it, and the sky comes raining down on him in pieces and hot explosions and he’s sure he’s going to die, this is it, this is the end.

    The fire seizes - above him, the warship that was seconds away from blasting him straight to hell is falling apart, and at the center of it all is a woman. She smiles at him. She takes the burden of carrying the fate of the universe through enemy lines. He’s infinitely relieved as he hands her the metal glove.

    ‘Mr Stark?’

    When the monsters and warriors turn to dust around him, he’s even more relieved. When Thanos does, he braves a smile - they won, they _won!_ Everything will be alright, at last, they’d done it. They’re safe.

    Still, something’s wrong. Something’s so, so terribly wrong.

    ‘Tony,’ Peter gasps before his mentor, ‘ _please._ ’

    The man is ashen, pale, and the spark in his eyes is gone. It’s obvious what is about to happen but the kid can’t accept it, he _can’t,_ because this isn’t just anyone. It’s Iron Man, protector of Earth - and now the Universe. It’s Tony Stark, the inventor who’d turned his weapons-manufacturing fortune into an institute for researching medicine, groundbreaking prostheses, into the Stark Relief Fund helping thousands of survivors of catastrophes. It’s the person who’s saved so many lives, time and time again-

    It’s mr Stark who invites Peter to lab once a month, if not more. Just to have pizza and brainstorm ideas too insane to ever see the light of day and then make them reality. It’s mr Stark who’d promised to be at Peter’s graduation.

    ‘We’re going to be okay,’ Pepper tells her husband. ‘You can rest now.’

    He feels it happening, because this is no ordinary death. It’s more than just a soul leaving for the next life - it’s an idea, a hero, a beacon of hope dimming.

    Peter reaches for something, for the life that’s slipping away, grabbing blindly at a limp hand. He feels a presence wash over him, but then it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

    ‘No…’ he whispers, stumbling to his feet, backing away from the body. It’s a shell. It’s a reminder of what he can’t, what he refuses, to accept.

    There’s something round pressing into his palm. It’s comforting, lukewarm, slightly tingling against his skin. Pepper and Rhodey are sitting vigil at the body, speaking in soft voices to each other, crying. They’re discussing how to carry Tony away from there, to his final place of rest. Time has passed - how long, he doesn’t know. Minutes. Hours. Pepper cradles a head in her hands, kissing its temple lovingly while mr Rhodes is fussing over the charred arm at which end the gauntlet sits.

    ‘Where’s…’ he begins, turning over the hand, ‘where’s the soul stone?’

    Peter blinks through his tears, opening his closed fist. Oh. So that’s what that is.

    He doesn’t know much about the infinity stones, only that Thanos mustn’t get them and that they’re incredibly powerful. The one he holds is beckoning him with forbidden hope. For a moment he fears it’s a curse that the titan has laid upon it, a way to undo their victory, and he wills himself to drop it - but then a calm sets over him, someone calling him, someone whispering…

****

* * *

 

He wants Pepper to be the last thing he sees. His beautiful wife, the five years of being a family that they got, the good memories. There’s a heavenly light behind her. His eyes drift to it. For a moment, Peter’s glowing and Tony remembers, five years ago, lost in space, when he’d seen the same thing. He’d hoped that the kid was somewhere golden and bright with hope.

    The battlegrounds aren’t gilded per see, but now that everyone’s back… there’s hope again. He’ll be alright. They all will be.

    Tony sighs out one last breath.

****

* * *

 

He’s quite sure he isn’t on Earth anymore. For one, it doesn’t smell like it, and the air’s more humid with a hint of petrichor to it. There’s shallow water covering the ground. Gravity is different - he’s floating, yet his feet are planted firmly on the smooth floor, mild waves lapping over them. He feels like he’s floating. Everything feels… light.

    The soul stone is still in his hand.

    ‘Peter,’ the voice calls again. He recognises it but doesn’t know from where. The water stretches on in all directions until it meets a peach-coloured horizon and there’s two figures walking slowly towards him, kicking up a murmur of splashes with each step. They’re both women, one of them green-skinned, probably not-human. She doesn’t smile like the other one does. The kind one… it’s the Black Widow, he realises, and she’s the one who’s been calling his name.

    ‘Hi,’ he greets them at a loss of other words. They stop just a few feet in front of him.

    ‘What are you doing here, Peter?’ Natasha asks softly. Sudden knowledge hits him. They’re dead. They both died so that someone could find the stone he now holds. To get it one must lose that which they love the most, and that’s what Peter just has - that’s why he’s here.

    ‘I don’t know,’ he chokes out. He’s tired, he’s afraid, he doesn’t want this stone, not like this. What is he supposed to do with it? The war is won, it’s over. They were just going to return it again, nothing more.

    ‘I think you do.’ Natasha takes his hand, the one that is empty, and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

    ‘I want him back.’ His grip clenches reflexively around the stone and he feels warmth spreading up into his body. ‘Please,’ he whispers.

    ‘Tell Clint I’m okay.’

    ‘And Quill,’ the sterner, green woman adds, ‘tell Quill I’m fine.’

    Knowledge comes to him again - Gamora, that’s her name. She speaks of her lover. He nods numbly. There’s a bright light, it’s enveloping him gradually until both her and Natasha become silhouettes in the distance. The Widow lets go of his hand. He feels a tear run down his cheek - he doesn’t want them to go, he doesn’t want to be alone.

    The light fades and then there’s darkness.

****

* * *

 

‘Please… I want him back.’

****

* * *

 

He doesn’t know how, but he’s in space now, watching Tony through a thick glass window. The man is asleep in the cockpit of a ship, dark bruises beneath his eyes, looking almost like he did when he was dead. He flinches, eyes blinking sluggishly. Peter realises that the blinding light still surrounds him.

    ‘Mr Stark?’

    A frighteningly intense hope awakens inside. He reaches forward - but no, this isn’t his Tony, this is long ago, a mere memory. He’s only here to observe, not interfere.

    ‘Please,’ he pleads to the stone in his hand, ‘I want him to- he has to live, he has to… I don’t know what I’d do without him.’

    Fear turns to resolution - no, this isn’t it, this isn’t the end. It’s going to change. Whatever it takes.

    The world morphs and shifts around him.

****

* * *

 

Mr Stark used to tell him he had a pure heart and that it would get the better of him one day. He’d shrug and say he didn’t think that sounded so bad. There were worse ways to go, after all. Perhaps he’d die saving someone else.

    _You’re assuming I’d let you die,_ Tony would quip, half smiles and half serious. _I wouldn’t, you know. Over my dead body._ Peter always thought that was terribly dramatic of him. Perhaps it wasn’t.

    The kid is back on the battlefield again.

    Everyone has gathered around the body, most of them standing far away out of respect, others joining the grieving. On his left is Thor, who doesn’t look quite the same as before, and a racoon on its hind legs. There’s a blue lady, a Banner-faced Hulk, a sentient tree and too many others to count beyond that.

    ‘It’s gone,’ mr Rhodes declares by the body, loud enough for those closest to hear.

    ‘What?’ Thor asks in bewilderment, ‘Someone’s taken it?’

    ‘What are we talking about,’ Hulk-Bruce asks, ‘what’s gone?’

    ‘The soul stone, it’s not there.’

    ‘You okay?’

    Peter’s breath hitches as Captain America appears at his side, concerned. The kid realises that the warm presence of the stone in his hand has turned into scalding hot tendrils of pain, climbing like vines up his arm.

    ‘Please,’ he pleads for the hundredth time, and the stone answers by bringing him to his knees in anguish.

    ‘We need a medic!’ mr Rogers calls out, catching Peter as he falls. It’s pure agony, it’s a burning venom, it’s- it’s exactly what he asked for. The stone doesn’t give, it exchanges. Tony won’t return unless someone switches places with him.

    ‘It’s okay,’ he pants, ‘it’s fine, I’m fine. I’m fine. Please, just, help me…’

    This is a bad idea. There’s a flaw in his plan and that is him assuming mr Stark will let him sacrifice himself, like the man hasn’t already gone to great lengths to bring everyone back. Like he won’t do it again to save Peter.

    _You’re assuming I’d let you die. I wouldn’t, you know. Over my dead body._ If they’re both ready to sacrifice themselves for each other, what is to say they won’t get stuck in a never-ending loop of killing themselves until one of them tires and lets the other one go? _If_ one of them ever tires. Except… except Tony has Pepper, and Peter’s heard a whisper - it’s the stone again, it tells him of a child, a Morgan Stark who’s waiting for her father to come back home. So maybe, just maybe… maybe Parker can die today and have his mentor accept it.

    That doesn’t sound much like Tony Stark, though. To give up.

    Damn it.

    _Perhaps there’s another way?_ he thinks, shaking his head to try to clear it, fingers digging into the dirt as another wave of pain hits him. He can’t hold on for much longer.

    ‘Hey, kid, are you okay?’ It’s a new voice, a sandy blond man with a quiver slung over his shoulder. Hawkeye.

    ‘Clint?’ Peter asks, just to make sure. ‘Nat-Natasha…’

    ‘What?’ Hurt and fresh loss flashes across mr Barton’s face.

    ‘I have… an idea. I don’t- don’t know if- it works, I don’t…’

    ‘Peter?’ Pepper calls out, stumbling through the crowd that has formed around them. ‘Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Steve, where’s Sam, we need-’

    ‘Clint,’ Peter cuts her off, feeling his focus slipping, ‘do you want her back?’

    The man looks down at the kid’s hand where an orange glow just about peeks through his fingers.

    ‘Yes. Yes - more than anything. Please-’

    Peter knows that _please_ , he knows exactly what it means, the intensity of it, and he nods to himself. _Here goes nothing._ He lifts the hand that holds the stone, uncurls the convulsing grip around it. Everyone goes silent.

    He slams his palm against Clint’s right arm, and screams.

    There’s chaos around them, voices shouting, orders going back and forth, hands on his back pulling him away until Barton calls out _wait, let him go-_ Through burning tears and searing hot pain, Peter sees a shadow, slowly taking form. His grip firms around the archerer’s dominant arm - a non-lethal sacrifice, but a sacrifice nonetheless. He keeps himself still until there’s nothing left to hold on to.

    ‘God,’ the Captain gasps, staring at the falling ashes. Peter’s relieved to see that the whole of Clint doesn’t fade away, that the dusting stops as it reaches his shoulder. It worked. Hawkeye will never wield another bow.

    The shadow isn’t a shadow anymore. Her braid is coming undone by a strong wind, legs materialising beneath her once more until she’s solid.

    ‘Hey there, Pete,’ Natasha greets. Her eyes lock onto Clint’s, welling up, and Barton pushes himself up on his one arm without a care in the world for the limb he lost, running, falling into an embrace.

    ‘I’m assuming we won,’ Nat says through her tears and he laughs. It sounds broken.

    ‘We did, we really did,’ he assures her, sniffling and holding on as well as he can. She holds him just as close.

    ‘I can bring him back,’ Peter says, searching for Pepper. ‘I can bring him- I can-’

    The pain is mounting and he has to pause to steady himself. Time is short.

    ‘Hey.’ She kneels before him, looking down at the stone and then up at him again. Her voice is filled with fear, because there’s hope now, too precious to lose. ‘Okay- okay, here, hold on, just- just a little bit longer, okay?’ She scoops him up, one arm beneath his knees, one under his back. He can feel the rough edges of her armour through his suit - it’s cool metal, and he lets a few more tears go because it’s all so achingly familiar.

    They’re close to the body but she still hurries, every second an eternity too long. Pepper kneels, just before the shell, lowering him to the ground. Peter forces himself to look at it. Him. The thing that used to be mr Stark but is now just stiff flesh, bone, and irises that have glazed over into something unrecognisable. It’s a thing, right now, not a person - but perhaps it can be again.

    Parker reaches out with a shaking arm - he shouldn’t be able to hold onto it for this long, to hold the raw power of an infinity stone for more than few moments, but he can’t just let it go, not until everything’s right again. He wills himself to carry on, grunts as he closes his eyes, searching with a fumbling hand…

    Pepper takes his wrist, guiding it to cool, numb flesh. She closes his fingers for him and holds the kid to her chest as the fire burns through him and he howls, echoing out over the eerily silent battlefield.

    It _hurts._ God, it hurts. He doesn’t know how much he needs to give to bring Tony back - an arm, a leg, his whole body, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all. He just wants it to stop, to be over, and if it’s his fate; to die.

    The thing is, it doesn’t go away. There’s no definitive end, there’s nothing to tell him he’s succeeded. He holds on, through and through, until he doesn’t think he can anymore.

    ‘Just a little more!’ he hears Pepper scream into his ear, and then her hand is over his and she’s crying out in pain too as they both will heaven to give back what it took.

    The soul stone slips, right through their grip, landing heavily on the ground. It sends out a blast of energy that knocks them both back, Peter landing against her chest, one of her arms slung around his torso, shielding him. It’s like he’s floating again, like he can’t feel his body, and for a moment he fears he’s gone. He’s dead. Then Pepper shifts underneath him and he can feel that, so surely there’s some scrap piece of him left - right?

    He slowly sits up, turning around to make sure she’s alright. Her balance’s off, the suit opening to reveal a t-shirt and jeans, one of the trouser’s legs falling flat against the ground now that there’s nothing within it. Pepper doesn’t pay it any thought. She crawls up to her husband, laying a hand against his cheek and all the kid can do is watch.

    _Come on, come on, please, let him live._

    Slowly, the head turns, eyes blinking that terrible glaze away. Lips parting, blood streaming out into rosy skin again, forming a word Peter can’t make out but he doesn’t care because it worked. It _worked._

    His hearing seems a small price, seeing what it bought them. He wants to surge forward, cry into mr Stark’s chest like a little kid, just cry his heart out in those strong arms. He begins to stand, everything that’s happened weighing down on him like the warehouse he was trapped underneath all those years ago. It’s over. He did it.

    There’s just four steps between them. Four steps before Peter falls over, sobbing against a dirty metal chestplate behind which a heart once more beats. He’s probably making a lot of noise but he can’t get himself to care - someone’s tilting up his chin, a slow trickle of snot threatening to run down onto the fingers. And all he can do is stare.

    Mr Stark’s talking. Moving. His breath smells like too many coffees and something awfully sour. It stinks. Reeks. There’s stubble enough to be the beginning of a beard and sunken, dark bags under his eyes. Tony cards a hand through Peter’s hair, like he has to touch the kid to know he’s still there, that they’re both alive again. He’s smiling.

    That should be it. Their happy ending, at last - but there’s a reason May speaks of Parker Luck with such distaste. Peter remembers. _Tell Quill I’m fine._ It’s unfair, but to not save her when he’s brought back everyone else… that would be selfish, that would be wrong.

    ‘Everything’s going to be fine,’ he says, trusting that his voice still remembers how to make words. Mr Stark looks confused, and Pepper’s got a hand on his shoulder but he ducks out of her grip before he can change his mind.

    _I mustn’t be selfish. I mustn’t be, I mustn’t._

The Soul stone glints treacherously innocently on a bed of dirt. His fist closes around it once more. Pain greets him. _Gamora,_ he thinks, and hopes it won’t cost his life.

****

* * *

 

May has seen it on the TV, in the grocery store, she’s gotten calls from friends excited to share the news. They’re back, everyone’s back. It happened hours ago. She was out buying zucchini when a man materialised into the aisle behind her - ever since that moment she’s been waiting, hurrying home, calling Tony, Pepper, Happy, anyone who might have any idea of where her Pete is. No one’s answered.

    She’s still waiting for the door to burst open, for her kid to come running through it and into her arms. It’s been hours, and she’s still waiting.

    All she knows about Peter’s death is that Tony was with him, that it happened in outer space and that he was so, so very brave before the end. Stark wouldn’t say anything else about it. They haven’t spoken in years.

    What if her baby is dying again, asphyxiated in some strange atmosphere at the other end of the universe? The Parker name brings with it notoriously bad luck, so it might just be that she’ll wait forever. Perhaps, like when she waited all those years ago, there’d be no happy ending.

    Her phone rings.

    ‘Where is he?’

    ‘I’m picking you up,’ Happy says, ‘It’s just an hour out with the Quinjet. It’s- it’s a long story. You don’t mind if we land on your roof, do you?’

    ‘I’m on my way,’ she hurries, grabbing her keys but not bothering with anything else. It’s August ninth, a day before Peter’s birthday, and the pot of ragout that was his favourite is still simmering on the stove.

    ‘I’ll tell you everything on the way. Just… be prepared. There’s something you need to know. Well, two things, actually.’

    She pauses at the base of the stairs, hearing planemotors in the distance. Happy’s always complaining of his dislike for the Avengers’ prefered methods of travel, the noise, the nausea that the altitude and speed brings him. If he’s willingly stepped onto a Quinjet just to pick her up… She doesn’t know if she’s ready for this, whatever it is.

    She lets out a shaky breath.

    ‘Just tell me he’s alive.’

****

* * *

 

The ceiling’s full of splinters and a tiny cobweb where the beam meets the wall. It’s homey, not too run down but still lived-in. A fire’s burning across from the couch Peter’s lying on, casting flickers of light across his features. It’s entrancing, watching it lick at the base of the chimney, eating away at the wood until only embers remain.

    He’s not used to silence. It’s never been quiet like this, there’s always something, a fan in the apartment below, people milling about outside or a car going by ten miles faster than the speed limit. Not that he’d hear that here anyway. He doesn’t know exactly where they are, but it’s rural and there’s trees outside. Not New York City, definitely not. Perhaps even out of state.

    There’s nothing now. Just a void, and it’s strange because he’s so used to noticing every little thing. He’d even pick up on the tiny spider spinning away at its web. Complete silence is… strange. It brings a new meaning to the word.

    He flinches when he doesn’t hear the person enter the room and only notices once they’re right in front of him. Her hair falls in front of her face, tangling into the frame of her glasses and she’s ugly crying but it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

    ‘May,’ he croaks out. He remembers how words feel even if he can’t hear his own voice anymore. She pulls him close and he feels her sadness, the relief - it’s rocking through her and into him.

    What’s even weirder than the silence is realising the Earth’s spun five times around the sun and he’s missed it. She’s mourned him, accepted her loss, and then gotten him back. To him, they last saw each other that very morning.

    She pulls back, sitting down next to the couch. Mr Rhodes enters with a chair, asks her something - perhaps he’s offering tea. Peter’s own mug stands cold, forgotten on the coffee table. She accepts the seat but not the drink. The kid continues staring at the ceiling.

    He’s anxious. Tony’s alive, but he’s not well - it’s difficult for the others to explain it to him. There’s not a lot of time for anyone to sit down with a pen and paper and write.

    May taps his shoulder. She raises one hand tearfully, extending the pinky before making an L shape with her thumb and index finger, ending the sequence by raising the outermost fingers up and holding them there. His lip trembles. There was a time, after his parents died, when he’d refuse to talk. Ben had taught him bits of sign language then. _I love you_ was one of the things that stuck, that Peter still knows today.

    He looks at her phone, hopes she’ll get what it means. As soon as she hands it over he starts typing.

    _Where’s Tony? Is he gonna be alright? Can ~~I talk to~~ you ask Pepper something for me? I love you too, btw. _

    She nods to herself as she reads through his questions. A sense of purpose comes over her, writing down a short answer.

    _I’ll go talk to her. What more do you want to know?_

    He taps the side of the screen like it’s a tic. _I can ask later._

    She gives him a confused look, trying to hand back the phone so that he can elaborate. Peter sinks into the cushions again, trying to make himself comfortable. It’s hard to move on his own, and the reason is something he doesn’t want to acknowledge yet, so he doesn’t ask for help. It’s the same something that’s making May shift, unconsciously, so that she’s turned to the head of the couch. So that she doesn’t have to see what isn’t there at the other end.

    _Ok, I’ll look for Pepper. Be back in a min, shout if you need anything. I’ll come right away._

    When she’s gone he can watch the fire again. The orange glow reminds him of a place beyond this universe where the water reflects a sky, frozen forever at the break of dawn. He wonders where he went all those years, when May and mr Stark and everyone else carried on with their lives whilst he was waiting for his time to get to exist again. Was he there? Does Natasha and Gamora remember that place now that they’re alive again, or do they too feel like they woke up from a nightmare only to find out it was reality?

    Peter’s mum and dad used to take him to the temple but he isn’t terribly religious anymore. Still, he can’t help but wonder if he met them in whatever place he went to when he died. Heaven, perhaps. He’s adopted thinking of afterlife as heaven and hell, but the truth is he has no idea. Even though he’s spent five years in one of them, he can’t say what lies beyond this life except, perhaps, water and a peachy sky at the break of dawn.

    Pepper sits down on the chair May vacated. She’s using a crutch for now, having tied up one leg of her trousers into a knot so that it doesn’t flop around and get in the way when she walks. There’s a ballpoint pen and a notebook in her hand - she gives him a smile before beginning to write.

    _I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. Tony’s fine. We just wanted to make sure of that, we had a doctor come look at him. He’s resting now. He’ll make a full recovery._

_Would you like to see him?_

Peter clicks the tip of the pen, wishing he could hear it. _How?_ Pepper may be able to get around on a crutch, but he’s lost both his legs. He’s not sure how to deal with that yet.

    _We’ve got a wheelchair for you, but our bedroom’s up the stairs. Just use these like you always do._

    She squeezes his wrists, thumbing the edges of the web shooters meaningly. Spider-man doesn’t use his legs much anyway - there are other, swifter ways to travel. Like swinging from the ceiling to the edge of the stairs, and using his hands to climb up the walls as if they were vertical monkey bars. It comes naturally, it’s almost easier than walking ever was. Peter almost blushes - he’s not sure what he was so worried about anymore.

    He’s at the second floor, pondering over whether to drop to the ground or continue to scale the walls when he discovers the one set back to his plan. A woman in a grey, wool suit and a briefcase - the doctor, he assumes - is gaping at him from the other end of the corridor.  He freezes, not sure how to react. After five seconds or so he decides to unstick one hand and give a small wave. Just make sure he doesn’t appear threatening.

    She shrugs tiredly, like this isn’t the first time she’s encountered a bizarre occurrence in the Stark residence. She simply shoulders by him on the way out.

    _I’m gonna have to find another way to get around school,_ he huffs to himself. Still. Could’ve been worse, he supposes.

****

* * *

 

Tony’s awfully restless for just having died. Doctor Bernheim thinks he shouldn’t leave bed for a week in order for his body to catch up with everything that’s happened, but he can’t help but feel like running a marathon. Whatever the kid did to get him back, it charged him up a hundred percent and he’s itching to make use of it.

    Pepper’s going to need a prosthetic leg. He’s thinking blue and gold, like her armour. And Peter - he’ll be needing two, and hearing aids, but perhaps Stark should wait before he begins developing those because the squirt’s definitely going to want to be in on the designing process. They’ll pick up on lab again. Sundays, in the garage - they’ll have to move a few things to make space for a second workbench, but with a bit of tweaking, it can be done.

    Everything is going to be alright.

    And, speaking of the devil… The door is slowly being pushed open to reveal Peter, who’s hanging by one hand from the ceiling. He seems almost flustered, gesturing at the open door with a questioning look.

    ‘Yeah, uh - come in,’ Tony nods, hoping the kid takes the hint. Before long the spiderling has made his way over to the old man’s bedside, flopping down onto a chair as gracefully as a cat still on its first of nine lives. He’s busy repositioning his lower body for awhile. Sitting without legs isn’t impossible, but Stark wagers it can’t quite be the same.

    ‘How are-’ oh. Right. There’s an invisible barrier between them now, a change Tony keeps forgetting about. He should really get cracking on those hearing aids, or learning sign language if that’s what the kid prefers. Does he know morse code? They could always tap messages back and forth on each other in the meantime.

    A _step, click. step, click._ is sounding from outside, nearing the still open door. Pepper has a notebook in one hand, crutch in the other - May follows after, balancing three cups of coffee between her hands.

    ‘How’s Morgan?’

    ‘My mum’s on her way back, she’ll be here in no time. They had a great time watching cartoons. Morgan even ate a broccoli.’

    A bubbling joy fills Tony. ‘Broccoli, huh? Without melted cheese on top?’

    ‘Yup,’ Pepper confirms, looking just as proud as him. Their little one is growing up.

    ‘She’s gonna be a chef when she’s older,’ he marvels.

    ‘Last week she was going to be a pilot just because she folded a paper airplane.’

    ‘Oh, she can be whatever she likes, be it pilot one day, broccoli chef extraordinaire the next. She’ll multitask.’

    His wife lets out a laugh, shaking her head as she pulls up a stool for herself and a pink, almost doll-sized chair for May. There’s not a room left in the house that hasn’t been infested by child-shaped copies of everyday objects in bright colours. It’s wondrous.

    ‘Could I have the book?’ miss Parker asks from besides her nephew who’s fiddling with his hands awkwardly. He must be feeling left out. Tony reaches over to test out his morse code idea. What’s the worst that could happen - the kid’s usually touchy as it is, he won’t mind terribly.

    _Hi there,_ Stark taps. Peter looks confused at first, hesitantly poking his mentor once in response. _H-E-L-L-O,_ he tries again. Finally, something clicks.

    _H-I M-R S-T-A-R-K_

_4 G-O-D-S S-A-K-E I-T-S T-O-N-Y_

    Parker snorts amusedly, _S-O-R-R-Y M-R T-O-N-Y S-T-A-R-K S-I-R_ Tony groans - even now the kid goes to great lengths just to make him miserable.

    ‘What are you doing?’ May asks, a small smile tugging on her lips. She touches Pete’s shoulder, gaining his attention before giving him the notebook she’s been writing in.

    ‘It’s morse. Faster than writing.’ As if on cue, Peter puts the book down and taps _Tell May I’m fine, she shouldn’t worry. Nothing hurts. Not hungry. Kinda wanna shower. Can wait._

    ‘He’s fine, miss P. No pain, nothing to worry about, just feels stinky. He’s gonna take a raincheck on lunch.’

    May’s smile widens and the kid turns suspicious. _What u say?_

_Just relaying info._ He’s smart enough not to trust that answer.

    ‘Could you ask something for me?’ Pepper speaks up from the other side of the bed. ‘May said he wanted to talk to me, but we never got to that.’

    _Pep wonders if u wanna ask her something._ Peter scrunches up his face in thought, taking his time to answer. He seems conflicted, making a few hesitant, unclear starts before settling on the final message. _I… was wondering if I could meet Morgan._

    ‘Morgan?’ Tony says aloud, ‘Pep, did you tell him about Morgan?’

    ‘No. It’s not too hard to notice we have a kid, though.’

    ‘But he mentioned her by name.’ _How do u know about Morgan?_

Parker shrugs, _Soul Stone told me. Can’t explain. Sorry._

    ‘Okay…’ Even though the stone isn’t a sentient being - for all that Stark can tell, at least - the fact that it knows about his daughter still unnerves him. He’d die a million times over to keep her safe and hidden from evil.

    _She’s coming home soon. You’ll see her then._

    ‘What did he say?’ May asks.

    ‘Something about the soul stone… I don’t even know. God,’ he runs a hand over his face. There’s so much that used to be strange that’s now normal - talking racoons, aliens, time travel, not to speak of the six magic, glowey rocks of destiny. When did the world turn into one big acid trip?

    It’s not long before the outer door on the floor below opens. Rhodey’s voice drifts up the stairs, speaking softly to Pepper’s mother whilst small, bounding steps near them.

    The light of his days comes running into the room, giggling in a flurry of a half-shrugged off jacket and the wide, green skirt of her dress. ‘Daddy!’ she exclaims in the way that makes him melt into a soft puddle.

    ‘Hey there!’ he laughs, embracing the heap of fabrics that’s thrown itself into his arms. ‘Did you have fun at grandma’s?’

    ‘Yeah! I ate a broccoli.’

    ‘I heard about that. You’re really growing up now, aren’t you?’ Morgan nods vigorously. He helps her take the rest of the jacket off, lingering to comb through her hair. ‘Well, just don’t age too fast, okay? I want you to be like this forever.’

    ‘No,’ she protests, nestling into his side, ‘I’m gonna be a grown up like you. I’m gonna eat a thousand broccolis.’

    ‘Now that sounds like a deal,’ Pepper buts in, winking conspiratorily at their daughter. Anything to get the kid to eat vegetables, he supposes. Still, he’ll be damned if she ever grows up. No - she’ll forever be a sweet, little baby in his mind.

    ‘Hey, Morguna. There’s someone I want you to meet.’ Tony leans back, letting Morgan look past him at Peter. The latter waves, smiling.

    ‘Hi,’ she chirps back.

    ‘This is Peter. He can’t hear very well right now, but I talk to him like this.’ Stark taps a _Morgan says hi_ and the girl watches, engrossed in the mystery of the silent communication. ‘He’s sixteen, so he’s a kid just like you.’

    She nods gravely, ‘Peter’s my brother.’

    Tony freezes. Beside him, Pepper is giving them an incredulous look. May puts down her coffee cup.

    ‘What?’

    ‘I’ve seen him in a photo,’ Morgan explains innocently. ‘He wasn’t here. That’s why you were sad about him. And now you’re happy, ‘cause he’s back.’

    ‘How…’ Tony laughs. She really is a little genius. And Peter - well, he’s as good as family, so it’s not too far off to assume…

    ‘He’s always wanted to have a little brother or sister, you know,’ May says lovingly. ‘I’m sure he’s very excited to finally meet you.’

    Morgan nods, ‘I like meeting him too.’ She crawls over her father, sitting down on her knees at the edge of the bed. Peter, oblivious to what she’s just said, is still smiling at her and waving again. She leans forward, spreading her arms wide. ‘I love Peter.’

    Parker hugs her back, although a little hesitantly like he hadn’t expected her to come around to him this fast. Tony tries to shake off his shock in order to assume his role as messenger. _Morgan says she loves you._ The kid’s eyes turn wide. He looks down in wonder at the small being still attached tightly to his chest.

    When Morgan shuffles back again, Peter’s clearing his throat. He raises one hand, showing his pinky. She copies him, then continues doing so as he makes an L shape with his thumb and index finger. They extend their thumbs and pinkies together, like Spider-man when he’s about to shoot off a web.

    ‘That’s sign language for I love you, Morgan,’ May explains, a bit teary-eyed herself.

    ‘Again!’ Morgan says, brow furrowed in concentration, dead-set on learning the entire sequence by heart. Tony turns to Pepper. She takes his hand. Their wedding rings clank against each other, staying close like they’re magnets, drawn to each other. He never thought he’d have a family like this, a quiet house on the edge of a forest and a fire in the hearth. And yet, here they are.

    ‘I love you,’ he says.

    ‘I love you,’ Pepper echoes. Neither of them has ever meant anything as much as they do this.

    ‘Mum!’ Morgan says, holding up her tiny fists, ‘I can say it now!’ _I love you,_ she signs. Pep grins.

    ‘And I love you too, sweetie.’

    He leans back against the headboard of the bed and the mountain of pillows that the doctor had insisted upon. Tony can say, without a doubt, that he’s never been this happy before; and if he never will be again, it’s still enough for a lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. So, Endgame was a bitch. And I saw it twice in one day. And cried so hard my fake lashes came off by themselves. So. I had to write this.
> 
> I realise people are still hurt - Clint's lost his arm, Pepper her leg and Peter's both legless and deaf, so it might not be the typical fix-it, but it didn't feel right just to fix everything without giving something up. Idk, this way it just felt more real for me, more believable. Tony's gonna fix them all up with badass prosthetic limbs, though (think Coulson in Agents of SHIELD) so everything's gonna turn out alright in the end!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! And thank you thank you thank you to everyone else who are writing fix-its in this time of need. I really appreciate it.


End file.
